Silver Hearts. Jackie Manning

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СКАЧАТЬ the brim of his hat up a notch. His dark brown eyes glittered with speculation and something else that caused a fluttery feeling in the pit of her stomach.

      The buckskin whinnied impatiently. Luke grabbed the oxen’s leads, then mounted his horse. Staring down at her, he said, “Miss, I’m the only ace you got up your sleeve. Get on the horse, ’cause I’m leaving. If you decide to come, bring the rifle. You’ll be the lookout while I chop down those trees.”

      Reluctantly, Noelle grabbed her rifle. He was right; she had no choice. She took his hand, but averted her gaze as she swung up behind him.

      She heard him mumble under his breath. She didn’t have to see Luke’s solemn face to imagine his begrudging expression as he wheeled the massive buckskin in the direction of the high ridge.

      

      Luke lifted the ax sideways and swung the final blow that brought the quivering young cottonwood crashing to the ground. The rush of air provided a fleeting respite from the oppressive heat. He inhaled the fresh wood smell while he mopped a bandanna across his brow.

      This log and the one he’d previously cut would be enough to fix the wagon. It had taken him nearly an hour, he reckoned—time he didn’t have.

      The buckskin shied nervously, its eyes huge.

      “I know, Deuce. I sense ’em, too.” Luke glanced at the spreading cottonwood about a hundred feet away where Noelle sat on a limb, rifle in hand, her gaze scanning the sun-baked range like a hawk. She turned toward him, then shook her head.

      Luke nodded, but he doubted that Noelle would know what to look for. He had explained about the telltale dust funnels announcing unseen riders, but if the Indians had seen them ride over here, they could sneak up along the ridge without warning.

      One thing was certain, the Indians were out there.

      Luke swore again as he hitched one log to each of the oxen, bracing the load to drag behind the animals. He wiped the sweat trickling down his chest.

      North and east, the flat, shimmering prairie would be too open for Indians to attack. But the west ridge, dotted with tall mesquite and sagebrush, would easily provide cover to hide the Indians and their ponies.

      “I’m a damn fool to get caught up in this,” he muttered to his horse. “Beneath all her bluster, she’s a real greenhorn.” He shook his head, recalling bow her hands had trembled while she held that old weapon on him.

      Luke led the oxen to the thick shade of the cottonwood tree where Noelle perched on a massive limb, rifle in her lap.

      “What’s in that long crate that you guard like a she-cat with a new litter?” he asked, adjusting the oxen’s load.

      “A gift for my Uncle Marcel,” she said, her eyes fixed on the green-dotted prairie.

      “If he’s as rich as you say, why wouldn’t he have the goods shipped with an armed guard of men, instead of a—”

      Noelle lifted her chin. “It’s none of your concern, Mr. Savage.”

      Damn right it wasn’t. He swore under his breath. What he should be concerned about is how he’d make up the time to get to Crooked Creek by Friday noon. Lady luck had turned against him, and there was no sign that she might change her fickle mind.

      Luke’s thoughts returned to Noelle Bellencourt. He knew women as well as he knew not to draw to an inside straight. Better, in fact. And he’d bet all the poker chips in the Silver Hearts Saloon that Noelle didn’t have a rich uncle waiting for her. But whatever her story, once she saw Crooked Creek, Nevada, she’d turn tail and head back East.

      At the sound of his footsteps, Noelle turned toward him.

      “When we get to town, you’re on your own,” Luke said. “If we walk all night, we’ll reach Crooked Creek by morning.”

      “Why do we have to?”

      “Because I’ve got to stop Blackjack from hopping the noon stage to ’Frisco. That slippery rascal isn’t getting away from me this time.”

      “Blackjack?”

      “My business partner, or I should say, was.” Luke mopped his face, then knotted the bandanna loosely around his neck. “Cheated me out of a string of gambling concessions. He knows I’m on his trail, but he’d never dream I’m this close.” Luke smiled as he thought of the surprised look on Blackjack’s face when he saw Luke, waiting for him with the sheriff.

      “What type of business are you in, Mister Savage?”

      He grinned. “Gambling, Miss. I’m the best poker player in all of Nevada.”

      Noelle’s face paled. “And this...Blackjack? Is that his profession, too?”

      “That, among others. But after I’m through with him, Blackjack will be shuffling his next deck in jail.”

      Luke strode to the logs tied to the oxen. Satisfied, he moved toward the horse. The buckskin shied uneasily.

      “Did you hear something?” Noelle asked uneasily.

      “Yeah.” Luke felt it, too. It was as if someone were watching them. He’d had the feeling ever since he found Douglas’s body.

      “Think it’s just the wind.” Luke hoped she’d believe him. “If Indians are out there, the open country affords no chance for ambush. We’re safe for the time being,” he added, hoping to reassure her. No sense having a hysterical woman on his hands.

      He helped Noelle mount the horse, then walked beside her, leading the oxen as they lumbered along, handling the cottonwood logs easily.

      Luke’s thoughts strayed back to the lone prairie schooner, stranded like a wounded white dove, and the woman riding beside him.

      Before they reached the top of the ridge, a rifle shot, coming in the direction of the prairie schooner, cracked the silence.

      Luke’s horse whinnied, then reared. Before he could reach Noelle, she had slackened the reins, leaned her weight forward, and grabbed Deuce’s mane to keep from falling.

      Grateful that she’d had the sense to control the buckskin, Luke secured the oxen’s reins to a mesquite bush, then mounted the horse behind Noelle. He grabbed the reins, then kicked his heels into the animal’s sides, charging the horse over the rise in the direction of the wagon.

      Chapter Two

      

      

      Ayeee! Hoop hoop hoop! Ayee! Coo-wigh!

      Anger and fear raged within Noelle, but fury won out as she listened to the rising shrieks behind her wagon. Several spotted ponies stood nearby. A tall, lanky Indian, dressed only in a buckskin breech clout and knee-high leggings stood, reloading a rifle. His head shot up when she and Luke galloped within sight.

      In a lightning-fast motion, Noelle positioned her rifle, ready to take aim.

      “Don’t shoot!” СКАЧАТЬ